


Ghostin

by malfoysamortentia



Category: Queen - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol abuse mention, M/M, Songfic, angsty, homo au ?, i guess I just love suffering, inspired by Ghostin - Ariana Grande, post freddie’s death, suicidal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 02:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17758457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoysamortentia/pseuds/malfoysamortentia
Summary: Facing the consequences of Freddie’s death is hard.





	Ghostin

The sun rays started pouring into the room, filtering through the curtains, creating a golden halo around the bassist’s head. He was sleeping, lips disclosed, fingers wrapped around a corner of the duvet, a glass of whisky on the nightstand.  
  
Roger lets his hand run lightly through his curls and he just can’t stop looking at him.  
  
If five years ago someone had told him they’d end up like this, he would have laughed in his face. Yet, here they are, John completely devastated, Brian and he having to go on telly and try and defend Freddie’s honour and John refusing to go back out there and deciding to retire to private life.  
  
They couldn’t even mourn, the press had started writing awful things almost immediately.  
  
The worst part of this whole situation is that there is nothing he can do to make John feel better. He tries, God knows how much he wants Deaky to get back to his life. But it’s hard, harder than he thought. The brunet has started having a couple of drinks before going to bed ‘cause you know I’m having troubles sleeping, I’ll be alright, don’t be such a pussy’, but that easily turned into four or five and him knocked out. Roger is so fucking angry at him for this, he’d like to wake him up and scream it to his face that he misses Freddie too, and feels like he’s losing touch with him, too and he just sees it all slip away through his fingers like that. He can’t.  
  
He had tried talking to Brian about how he was feeling, and it turned out that the guitarist could understand him perfectly. That’s how Roger found out that Brian was suicidal. So there was that, too. And saying he’d never thought about killing himself would be the biggest fucking lie, he’s just not brave enough. Lays in his bath with a glass of champagne and a tube of pills he knows he won’t be able to swallow. He lays there and he cries his heart out cause one of his best friends is dead, and John can’t seem to find a way to survive to this, and Brian isn’t able to go on and if they can’t, how is it possible for him to go on? Roger slowly slides underwater and hopes it’ll all end like this. People would say it was an accident. But nothing happens. He tries to scream, just for the sake of it, for the rush of panic that will run through his body as soon as water fills his lungs. The blond gets out of water, face flushed red, out of breath. He gets dressed and goes back to the bedroom.  
  
“Where have you been?” John is awake, piercing his soul with those eyes.  
  
“Taking a bath.” The fact is, Roger doesn’t want to be angry at him, but he fucking hates him right now.  
  
“Thought you’d left me too.” There’s a tear in the corner of John’s left eye, but they both pretend like it’s not there. “I’m sorry.” The bassist shifts just a little and pats the mattress. “Come here. Please.” And it’s the most desperate and heart wrenching cry of help and Roger can’t believe that the time has come.  
  
The sun is already set when Roger realises that John has fallen asleep again, John keeping him as close as possible, and the blond knows what’s gonna happen. And it’s going to hurt him again and again, salt being poured into his cuts.  
  
He remembers how it was before: how Deaky loved dancing while preparing breakfast for the both of them, the silly apron he wore with “kiss the cook” written on it. He remembers laying on his sofa, stoned and paranoid, and somehow knowing it would be fine cause John was there. Deaky dancing to disco music. Deaky jokingly slapping his ass when he caught him stealing a cookie. Deaky being ridiculous on the set of I Want to Break Free. Deaky making chicken soup as soon as Roger sneezed. Deaky laughing at Brian’s clogs. It was always John fucking Deacon.  
  
And now Roger is in John’s arms, but it feels different. And just as he predicted, John starts murmuring in his sleep. Tears running down his face and hands frantically trying to hold on to something. “Don’t don’t don’t…” the drummer never asks, but it doesn’t take a degree to understand that John is once again reliving Freddie’s departure.  
  
*  
  
When John wakes up, the first thing he sees are the blond’s eyes. Blue and huge and sad. The drummer’s distractingly caressing his forearm, mind wandering far away.  
  
“Y’know Rog, I really am sorry. I’m sorry for the drinking. I’m sorry for making your burden heavier. I’m sorry for not being able to get back to how I was. And most importantly, I’m sorry for how you’re feeling. I’m sorry I spend every night crying and crying out his name, and I know this is killing us, but every time I close my eyes, he’s there. Every time I try to shut my mind, I see him. I see him laughing, dancing. I love you so much I’d give my life for you, but he was like a brother to me, and I feel like my soul’s been tore in a thousand little pieces, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go on like this. So, I’m sorry for being irretrievably broken. I swear to god, I love you Roger Taylor.”  
  
His hands are shaky as Roger takes them into his and lightly kisses them. “It’s alright, we’ll get through this.” And as this words slip out of his lips, the drummer knows it’s the truth.  


**Author's Note:**

> So I guess I just decided I’d write sth super sad once again and here we are aren’t y’all like super lucky?!


End file.
